


Time, Lived Again

by Vulpes_Fawkes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Definitely AU, Exposition Heavy, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Verdant Wind Route Spoilers, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, I'll add tags as we go, Period Typical Homophobia, a lot of paragraphs about architecture, all errors mine, anyway this prob gonna be a real slow burn, but they gonna be there, i got a lot of issues with fe3h even though i love it a lot, i have no idea how long this is gonna be, i'm a medievalist have fun with that, no beta we die like men, period typical xenophobia, realism before fantasy, the main lords to show up later, writing as I go so updates will be slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpes_Fawkes/pseuds/Vulpes_Fawkes
Summary: Byleth is brought to Garreg Mach as a prospective student. It's a world influenced by the Middle Ages so I'm just gonna ramp that up a bit more and remove a few of the more fantastical elements, while fixing some of the things I don't really like about canon. Not sure where this will go, so enjoy the ride with me.
Relationships: Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. A Million Miles From Home

It was the year 1160 and Jeralt Eisner wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with a child. Oh he knew how it all worked, certainly. But how could he raise a child on his own? Without his wife, there was no way he could actually do this, and work to support his daughter.  
He didn’t have a lot of other skills that didn’t involve weapons. In fact, he could barely remember a time where he hadn’t been swinging a sword. With a baby, his normal way of life wasn’t secure. He couldn’t very well go into a battle with Byleth strapped to his chest. 

Besides, it was shaping up to be a cold winter. A very cold winter. Possibly the coldest in a generation. And there was no way he was going back to Garreg Mach. He contemplated his options, considering what the best course of action would be with an infant and little real world skills that didn’t involve sticking pointy things in people.  
So, Byleth was less than a year old, and he needed a job. Something stable. 

It was Byleth’s fifth birthday, and Jeralt was in the fields. He would be until sundown, probably. He had told her that they should probably celebrate, but he didn’t have any other farm hands and the work always needed doing.  
In the farmhouse, Byleth was quietly reading a book about a wandering merchant who managed to go to Almyra. She was completely fascinated by this warrior culture she had never encountered. The idea of constantly fighting, of celebrating the dead with feasts, of contests of strength. It was all very curious to her. She wondered what it would be like to hold a sword, to travel constantly to the next fight. She had seen her father’s sword, still as sharp as the day he had last used it, he said, gleaming in the chest in his bedroom. His armour was in that chest, too. 

Today was her birthday, and Byleth was reading by herself at five years old. She knew it was kind of odd for her to be a reader. The nearest village to here had a few children, and she knew none of them could read. Her father had insisted she learn, however, and Byleth wasn’t really sure why. It wasn’t like it was a necessary skill for a farming family to know, she thought. 

Her thoughts - mature for her age as they were - were interrupted by the opening and closing of the front door. Byleth closed the book and set it down on her bed before shuffling into the front room to see who it was. 

“Oh, it’s you.” Her voice was soft, but the accusation was there. One of the teenagers in town was here. He sometimes helped Jeralt with tasks around the farm, and today he was wearing his work clothes, poorly carved wooden shoes on his feet and holes in his shirt. He glanced at her, and nodded. 

“Heard it was your birthday. So I’ve come to help yer da finish his fieldwork early. Maybe we can have dessert after we finish yeh?” 

Dessert, Byleth knew, consisted of sweet bread and peach jam. As much as she liked it, she felt a welling of anger in her at the idea of sharing her birthday with anyone other than only her father. Why would Elin want to celebrate her birthday anyway? 

Byleth said nothing, merely retreating back to her room. Instead of opening her book back up, she curled into a ball in her bed, staring at the stuffed rabbit one of the women in the village had made for her. 

It was several hours later, and Byleth had fallen asleep. Jeralt and Elin had finished the field work, and now more villagers were arriving to help get ready for Byleth’s birthday celebration. While the Eisner farm was not exceptionally close to the village, Jeralt frequently dealt with wolves and bears at the request of the village, and had some standing among the small population of 70. 

Jeralt gently knocked on the frame into her room, and stepped inside when he realized she was still asleep. Gently, Jeralt sat down on the bed next to her, and saw the closed book about Almyra. His heart ached. Byleth wanted to see new places. She frequently asked him about the coming and going mercenary bands that went through the area, and the occasional battalion of the Knights of Seiros, off on their next holy mission. Jeralt for his part had fostered her love of reading quickly, but realized that with that desire to read came the consequence of her wanting to see the places she read about. He sighed and touched her shoulder, pushing her scraggly raven black hair from her face. She was curled around the rabbit that one of the villagers, Constance, had given her during their last trip to the village market.  
“Byleth. Wake up,” he whispered, and the child mumbled, tightening herself around the toy. He picked up the book and moved it to the small shelf next to her bed.  
“Byleth. It’s time to eat.” That woke her up. Blue owlish eyes opened and looked at him. Her expression did not change, and she rubbed her eyes as she sat up. Then she heard the bustling in the kitchen area and she frowned, looking up at her father. He merely smiled at her. “They’re here to celebrate your birthday.” 

Byleth was eight when her father finally relented and let her hold a dagger. She was too small for anything else, but he let her at least handle the small blade, feel the weight of it, and understand its sharpness. He told her that it was only to be drawn in an emergency, when she could get hurt, and needed to defend herself against someone or something that would hurt her. He let her carry it in its sheath, and began teaching her combat drills for its use. They were never anything intensive - little more than basic martial skills and the importance of stance. 

She would first use the dagger when a strange man showed up at the farm when Jeralt had gone to town to help mediate a dispute over land rights.  
He had knocked on the front door twice, and peered into the smokey glass of their front window, before jiggling the handle and - Byleth supposed - pulling out thieves tools. 

By the time he got the door open, which was a matter of maybe a minute tops, Byleth had removed her dagger from its sheath and hidden behind one of the chests of dried provisions they kept in the front room, near the door. She was trying to keep from hyperventilating as she watched the tall man, a shock of whiteish blonde hair and strange violet eyes roving over the contents of the farmhouse.  
And then he began moving towards Jeralt’s bedroom, grumbling to himself about something that her ears could not pick up. She heard the vase that Jeralt kept on his windowsill with the only flowers he ever brought home smash to the floor, and then Byleth began to move. She silently followed the sounds of the man to the bedroom, avoiding the creakier wooden floorboards as she went. She was a shadow in the archway, and his back was to her. 

Byleth took a steady, but deep breath, held the dagger with both hands, and stealthily walked up behind the man. Before he could notice her, Byleth sliced the back of his knee and with a yell he toppled to the floor. She immediately plunged the blade into his lower back- she was aiming for his kidney like Jeralt had taught her - and pushed as hard as her small body would allow. She ignored the feel of blood spraying all over her hands, sticky and warm, and ignored the yelp he let out. With rapid, quick breaths Byleth pulled the blade back out and put the blade to his neck. “What are you doing here?” Her voice, soft, was full of purpose.  
She knew this man did not live in the village. She knew he wasn’t even a regular traveler through the area. He was foreign, and he had broken into their house to look for something.  
He hissed in a language she did not recognize, and his hands trembled as he reached to his belt. Immediately she pulled the blade from his neck and nicked his hand as it fumbled for his own dagger. He quickly drew his hand away and snarled at her, and Byleth made a decision then. This man clearly wanted something, and he was willing to kill for it. 

So she plunged the dagger into the soft section where his neck and shoulder met. 

It was three hours later that Jeralt arrived at the house. Byleth was covered in blood, sitting at the small dining table, the dagger still in her hands, and her eyes tracking nothing in the middle distance.  
Jeralt dropped the sack of provisions he had brought home in the doorway and immediately rushed to Byleth, looking for wounds. She was covered in blood, head to toe, clumped in her hair and her clothing stained.  
She said nothing as he fretted over her, and when he was satisfied that none of the blood was hers, he immediately began to search the house. It didn’t take long for him to find the body in his bedroom, and the shattered vase. 

That day, Jeralt buried the body in one of their fallow fields, and never replaced the vase after that. 

Byleth was twelve when the Knights of Seiros came into town looking for anyone who could hold a weapon. Jeralt immediately knew what was at risk, and packed up a few items in a sack then he and Byleth left the farm, the rest of their belongings left for anyone to loot or rot. They would never return to that farm, or the village. 

By now, Byleth was proficient with her dagger, and was quite nimble on her feet and very good with locks. Jeralt decided that it was back to the mercenary life for them, and Byleth would learn what it meant to survive day to day, battle to battle. 

It was rapidly clear that Jeralt had a whole life that Byleth had not known. They met up with several other mercenaries who already knew him - all explosive laughs and aggressive body language. A greeting was a heavy hand on the shoulder and a toothy smile. Jeralt clearly belonged here. Byleth wasn’t so sure she did. 

Where the mercenaries were explosively external, Byleth was painfully internal. She rarely spoke unless spoken to, and Jeralt frequently was her liason between the rest of their growing mercenary group. She frequently heard the same questions whenever someone joined up, however: "What's a kid doing here? A girl at that?" 

They often shut up when they first saw her drive her dagger between a man's ribs. 

Byleth, her father, and the rest of their merry band of mercenaries were constantly moving, town to town and city to city. She heard from time to time whispers of The Church and the happenings in The Empire. She briefly heard concern over a slaughter in The Kingdom. It was all very abstract to her. Coins spent wherever they went, and people still needed help dealing with the beasts taking their cattle and the odd old man.  
Byleth had her first moment of real reflection when she realized that now they were the roving band of mercenaries through the country side that she would see when they lived on the farm. Byleth frequently looked into the faces of small children, watching the fear and distrust in their eyes as they stared at the dagger on her hip, and she couldn't blame them.

Byleth was sixteen when she first came into contact with Church officials. Jeralt hadn’t been able to get them away in time - though she never knew why they needed to leave immediately when the Church showed up. She had merely never questioned it, a deep distrust of authority fostered in her by Jeralt meeting with the tough hands-on approach of the mercenary life that they had taken to. 

Where once she had been uncertain of her place in this environment, she now thrived, and the mercenaries that were loyal to her father whispered of her ability and strength when they thought she wasn’t listening. There had been a trickle of gossip that she would take over the group when her father inevitably fell in battle. 

But now the Church officials were here, demanding that her father return to The Monastery.


	2. Missing Pieces Find Me

Claude was pretty positive something was up around Garreg Mach. There had been more bustling than usual among the knights, more people than usual coming and going, in and out, and he wanted to know what was going on. 

Of course, poking his nose into where it didn’t belong was his business - and he was very good at it, but he worried that doing so right now might be too overt; he had only just arrived a month ago to Garreg Mach. As house head, he needed to “set an example” for the other students, but that limited his mobility to snoop. He had wanted to find out more information, and had begun to devour nearly every book in the library to get a basic understanding of the monastery community and how it operated, and the larger workings of the Church of Seiros. 

Hilda Valentine Goneril, who was sitting next to him at the library table and delicately finger weaving a bracelet hummed happily and sighed. “Do you think we’ll be getting a new professor for our class, seeing as Professor Hart decided to up and leave so suddenly?” She asked, her voice soft on account of being in the library. “I do hope they won’t make me work too hard. I’m just not cut out for all of this!” her voice was pitched pleasantly, but he could hear the edge to it. Hilda was proving very quickly to be an adept at handling an axe, but she continued to doubt her abilities, and Professor Hart had given up on her quickly. Frankly, Claude was tired of her inability to find confidence in herself, but he never expressed that, instead indulging in her lowered sense of self worth to at least keep her on his side. 

That said, Professor Hart had left as suddenly as Hilda had expressed, in the dead of the night a week ago. The entire student body had been in an uproar, and Seteth of all people had been filling in as their home room professor until a replacement could be decided upon. No one wanted Jeritza to be an actual professor of battle tactics, and the knights were all constantly moving. It seemed peace in Fodlan was becoming less and less tenable. 

There were rumours that a new professor had finally been decided upon, but with so many new people coming and going Claude hadn’t been able to pinpoint who it might be. He wanted to be in on who the new professor might be, as he didn’t really like surprises and especially didn’t like being in the dark about important events. It had been ingrained in him very early to keep ahead of anyone and anything that could happen. 

He closed the book he had in front of him on the politics in the Empire as Seteth came into the library, clearly looking for someone. When Seteth’s eyes locked onto him, Claude felt the sensation of his stomach dropping slightly. Guess he was either in trouble, or something was actually serious at the Monastery. 

“There you are - you are needed at the reception room. Edelgard and Dimitri will both be there as well as Lady Rhea.” Seteth wasn’t much for excessive conversation. Before Claude could get a word in edgewise he was gone, back out the door with his boots clicking on the flagstone. Claude glanced over at Hilda, who looked at him nervously, her fingers stalling from making the next loop. “Don’t wait up for me,” he said quietly as he stood and shelved the book in his hands, shuffling out of the room quickly with what felt like dozens of eyes on him. 

His mind raced with the possibilities - the predominant one being that perhaps he would finally meet the new professor. At least it wasn’t in class in front of everyone else. His boots clicked as he went and he gave easy going smiles to the other students as he passed through the halls towards the reception room. As he stepped into the room he noticed immediately a lack of monks and nuns milling about as they usually did, and instead he saw Edelgard, Dimitri, Seterh, Lady Rhea, and two new people. One was a tall sandy blonde man and the other was shorter, with shaggy black hair.Both of them looked like they had seen better days. He quickly walked over, plastering a grin on his face as he did so, and took his place next to Dimitri and Edelgard. “So what’s the occasion?” He asked brightly, as if he didn’t think the mostly empty room was weird. 

“Good of you to join us, Claude. Before you stands Jeralt Eisner and his daughter, Byleth. You may be familiar with Jeralt’s name,” Rhea’s voice was warm and inviting, but Claude always found it a bit unsettling. “They will be joining us here at the academy.” 

Edelgard spoke up, “So why did you need us to come all the way here to hear you say that?” For once Claude almost agreed with her - why did it need to be an entire formal thing for two new staff members to meet the heads of house with the Archbishop? Claude watched as Lady Rhea arched a perfect eyebrow at Edelgard, her piercing eyes staring straight into the girl. Claude had always found Lady Rhea both beautiful and unnerving. There was a kind of stillness about her that reminded him of a coiled viper, ready to strike. 

Here, in this nearly empty audience chamber, Claude felt even more exposed than he did in the halls of the monastery proper - there were statues whose eyes seemed to always follow him, and their voices bounced off the empty space and grated on his ears. He didn’t like coming to this place, and Lady Rhea embodied everything about it that he didn’t like. 

“They are not merely staff members, Edelgard. Jeralt will be joining us as the homeroom professor of the Golden Deer house.” She paused here, as if for dramatic effect, and Claude’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he looked over at Jeralt. THE Jeralt - The Blade Breaker - was going to be his teacher? “His daughter will have the luxury of choice in which house she will be enrolled.” Here Lady Rhea turned her eyes upon Byleth. This was the first time Claude had really looked at her as well, and he immediately noticed the dagger strapped to her hip. Further, her clothes were both impractical and unfashionable, and Claude found it highly amusing. He could tell that Dimitri and Edelgard both weren’t sure what to make of this haphazard looking woman. 

Byleth looked at each of the three house heads, her face giving nothing away as she clearly weighed her options. “How soon do I need to make a decision?” She asked, and Rhea smiled warmly. 

“You can take the rest of the afternoon, then come see me or Seteth and it will be taken care of. In the meantime, why don’t you speak to some of the members of the Officer’s Academy and get to know the monastery itself?” 

Byleth seemed to take Rhea’s words to heart. She briefly glanced towards her father as if having a silent conversation, and then turned to the heads of houses. “Err. Can you show me where I can get something to eat? I have not eaten since before we left to come here.”

Claude, sensing his opportunity, brightened immediately and smiled at her, “I’d be glad to show you to the mess hall - not like the royal highnesses spend any time there.” He shot a glance their way and ignored the glares from Dimitri and Edelgard as he turned to lead Byleth away. 

“Oh no you don’t! We shall all take her to the mess hall and show her around!” That was Dimitri. Ever the gentleman. It kind of grated on Claude, but he said nothing in opposition, only extended his smile to the other two as the four of them walked out of the audience chamber, beginning the trek to the mess hall. As they walked, the three heads of houses would point out important rooms and buildings for Byleth to notice and commit to memory. It was clear the dark haired woman was feeling overwhelmed by everything, and Claude couldn’t blame her. She seemed a little bit like a fish out of water. 

“So where were you before you came to Garreg Mach?” Edelgard was studying Byleth critically “And what are these clothes?” Her nose wrinkled slightly as she took in Byleth’s attire, who was clearly self conscious about what she wore. 

“It was pretty much all I had left. The rest of my armour was pretty banged up from our last job and my normal clothes got left behind,” her voice had a slight edge of defensiveness to it, and her body language clearly was uncomfortable. Claude felt a bit bad for her. She clearly hadn’t known what she was walking into. 

Dimitri spoke up then. “I am sure that you will be given a uniform when you choose your house. In the meantime, let us get some food.” It was stew. Claude wasn’t a big fan of this specific recipe, but it was something to eat. He and Byleth watched as Dimitri wolfed it down. 

“So - Byleth was it?” Of course he already knew her name but it was best to be casual. “What would you like to know about our three houses, and Garreg Mach?” Claude leaned back on the bench, an easy expression on his face. He saw Hilda, Marianne, and Raphael sitting a few tables away, with Hilda’s eyes tracking over Claude, Dimitri, Edelgard, and Byleth with curiosity. 

“I suppose I want to know what kind of atmosphere your houses have, and what kind of weapons and tactics your classes prefer.” She was picking at the last dregs of her meal, eyeing the three of them mildly. 

“Aha! I can help you with that! Black Eagles is the house of the Adrestian Empire. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, and I am the heir of the Empire. We are primarily Crest users - do you have a Crest?” Edelgard sounded extremely eager to recruit Byleth to Claude’s ears, and he could already see where this line of dialogue would go. 

“Ah... a crest. No, I do not.” She sounded slightly uncomfortable by that line of questioning, and Claude opened his mouth to change the subject when Edelgard plowed right on. 

“That does not matter. You are the daughter of Jeralt Eisner, yes? The Blade Breaker - the greatest captain of the Knights of Seiros to ever live. Am I talking about the same man?” Edelgard’s eyes were focused on Byleth then, not wavering in the slightest. It was clear she was expecting a specific answer. 

“Uh... I do not know. My father did not speak of the time before I was born.” 

“Well he must have trained you, right? Then you must be very mighty - a welcome asset to the Black Eagles. I have many plans for the future of the Empire, and I could use your help to make them happen.” 

Dimitri cut in then - “Edelgard, you are making her uncomfortable. I am Dimitri Alexandre Bladdyd - crown princes of the Holy Kingdom of Fearghus. We in Blue Lions favor the lance and sword. Many of us are knights, and we favor a more direct approach to combat. You would fit in well with our house if you are a great mercenary like your father, and I would greatly appreciate your assistance in the Holy Kingdom’s affairs.”

Here Byleth’s attention seemed more interested, her momentary discomfort at Edelgard’s questions passed. It was clear that she was more interested in armed combat, not crest ability, but still, Claude could tell that the proposals of the other two house heads were contingent on her usefulness to their causes. Claude cleared his throat. 

“You two just dove right in, huh? Me, I thought about hearing what kind of things Byleth was interested in learning here at Garreg Mach, but I guess I’ll have to throw my hat into the ring as well.” He sighed dramatically for effect, “I’m Claude von Reigan of the Leicester Alliance. I’m not a crown prince or heir of some great state like these two.” The lie rolled off his tongue like honey, and he could almost believe it himself. “The students of the Golden Deer house are primarily archers and prefer hit and run tactics. We’re not knights like the Blue Lions or mages like the Black Eagles. We’re probably a bit more ragtag, but we’re an honest bunch.” He smiled, and he hoped he had convinced her to join his house. 

After their meal, Byleth thanked them all for their pitches to their houses, and then wandered away to figure out the layout of the monastery herself while she considered what they had said. Claude was itching to know her decision, but the more pressing matter of knowing what sort of man was to be their new homeroom teacher called first. He exchanged pleasantries with Dimitri and Edelgard as he swiftly left the table, back to the library. There were books detailing the history of the Knights of Seiros he needed to get his hands on. 

Byleth quickly realized that the monastery was huge, and it would be very easy to get lost. Keeping her orientation in relation to the cathedral, she examined the dormitory facilities, the docks, the green house, as well as the market. Here she could see that the local Garreg Mach village community bustled in and out, bringing goods to trade and barter. Her eyed wandered over the various goods displayed on their carts, marveled at the variety of foods she and Jeralt has never afforded. It was impressive to say the least. 

However, it was the blacksmith’s station that immediately drew her attention, and she looked into the darkened space, glowing with the lights of embers in the furnace. She could tell that this was a small, temporary blacksmith’s workstation, suited more towards repairs and small work than full-blown crafting of large two-handed swords and suits of armour. 

The blacksmith looked up then, and grunted as she pulled back away from the work she had been doing to approach Byleth. “You’re new,” she commented gruffly, her bare mid-drift glinted with sweat, her abs practically glistening from the effort she had expended. Byleth forced her eyes to pull away from the sight and back to the face of the woman before her. “I need a new sword. Mine is dull and rusted.” 

The woman nodded and turned back into the glowing darkness, before returning with a solidly made iron short sword. “You’re kinda small so I don’t think you’d find a full length two-hander useful.” 

Byleth nodded, weighing the blade in her hands and checking the edge and temper. Though she didn’t have experience as a blacksmith herself, she knew some of what a good blade would be made like. Satisfied that it would do, she passed over the necessary coin amount before carrying the sword in her hands back up the steps towards the monastery proper. She would have to sharpen it further and get it situated with her gear, but she was confident that it would do what she would likely need it for. 

It was then that she ran nearly bodily into a pair of men, one with artfully low effort tousled red hair and the other with long black hair. They were arguing about something. 

Or, more accurately, the black haired man was seething at the unapologetic red haired one. The red head did a double take as he glanced her way, and then grinned and turned his attention to her, away from the incensed black haired man. Byleth internally cringed at the murderous expression on the man’s face behind his back. 

“Well hello, beautiful! I am Sylvain,” he grinned at her toothily, and Byleth gave a hesitant smile in return. “This is my friend Felix. We’re in the Blue Lions house. I’ve never seen you around, are you a new hire here at the monastery?” His charisma could probably choke a horse, Byleth noted with an internal cringe. 

“Ah… no,” her voice was more than a bit uncomfortable, “I’m a new student.” 

Sylvain’s expression seemed to brighten even more at that prospect and the man referred to as Felix seemed to have had enough. He shoved Sylvain bodily, grumbling loudly about shamelessness and ridiculousness as he walked away, into the main complex behind them. Byleth immediately took this as her cue to leave and bid Sylvain goodbye before scurrying on, her new sword in hand and a nervous pit in her stomach. Were all the students as odd as those two? 

Byleth continued walking around the monastery, taking in the decidedly utilitarian architecture. It was when she finally stepped into the cathedral that her views on the complex immediately changed. The high vaulted ceilings allowing for better acoustics along with the tall pillars and scattered coloured reflections from the stained glass windows made her suck in a breath. 

Sure, Byleth had seen a few churches here and there. It was hard to miss them in the towns they frequently ended up in during their travels. None of them looked like this, though. They were usually much smaller, much more square, much more rough. And a lot darker. The churches of the countryside were barely big enough to fit into the narthex of this large stone structure. It almost made her feel sad. 

This huge building, this absolutely gargantuan cathedral was the largest building she had ever seen. Even the cities she had been in did not possess a single building of this scale, and her eyes and head swam as she crammed her head to see the top. The vaulted ceiling with its ribs, the stone pillars as wide as the largest and oldest trees she had climbed as a twelve year old - it was overwhelming. The glint of coloured glass flitted across the veined marble flooring as the sun streamed in, and Byleth found herself completely dazzled as she drank in the sights around her. Statues of various saints of the Church lined the aisles, and beautiful oil paintings, hung in gold filigree frames, showed scenes from the history of the church in the side chapels. It felt like it would be an eternity to walk all the way down to the crossing of this great structure. 

Byleth knew in her heart that the people of the countryside would never be able to afford something nearly this grand; they scraped by with what they could get away with in creating their houses of worship and their villages. It was little wonder they could barely afford to hire the mercenary bands to deal with a bandit or two threatening them when they could barely scrape the money together to buy the stones for a proper church. 

Her heels clicked on the marble flooring, and her eyes drank in everything, her head reeling at what she was experiencing. There was not a bit of darkness. Between the huge stained glass windows streaming colours in, there were candles everywhere and open doors besides. She could hear voices whispering throughout the church, and watched nuns and priests bustle through the expansive space.

The wide central nave was huge - an entire contingent of mercenaries or soldiers could move freely through the space, even with the pews lining the sides. The side aisles were also wide enough to accommodate four men walking shoulder to shoulder. In the center of the crossing a pulpit, glittering in its own way, stood. It was presently empty, but she could imagine the Lady or that strange overbearing man making sermons. She couldn’t see in the transepts but she assumed it was much similar to what she had already seen, and she stopped before making it to the crossing. 

Byleth felt truly small in this grand place, and the sheer opulence made her heart squeeze at the thought of what the villagers in the country had to make do with, instead. How did the central church afford THIS when all those villages still had dirt floors and not a single window in their stone buildings because the sheer weight of the stones would have caved the structure in to try to accommodate it? Shouldn’t the church itself provide funds to communities to build them up? Wouldn’t other houses of Seiros benefit from some funds going their way, and therefore the communities they served?

Byleth shook the thoughts away, and returned to the monastery proper, briefly saying hello to a few more students as she did so. She hadn’t seen the heads of houses again, but she also figured that it was best if she really gave it some thought on her own.

What house would she really be suited for? The overt advances of Dimitri and Edelgard weren’t appealing to her. And neither did their tactical focus as entire house units appeal to her either. She wasn’t a magic user, and she didn’t care for charging into conflict without contingency plans. 

Golden Deer, however, sounded much more like her style. Byleth, even as a mercenary, had never cared for charging into any conflict like a fool. It was better to gather intel, get behind the enemy, and get rid of them before they ever knew she was there. That suited her a whole lot more and she could work with that. Better for the enemy to never know she existed than to bring them to her. 

Decision made, Byleth turned to the stairs, headed back to the audience chamber and the strange green haired people she and her father had been brought to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between the first chapter and this one. I have a rough outline of what I want to happen, but I'm very much a "must feel the drive to write" kind of writer, which is really the worst kind of writer to be. A Pandemic, I have found, is a rough time to try to be creative. I've written, deleted, and rewritten a couple different ideas I've had for a variety of projects, but now the new semester has started and now my creative endeavors will have to take a backseat to reading a lot of books and writing very long papers between now and December for my masters program.
> 
> This chapter has been written for about a week now, and I have been tweaking it here and there in attempts to edit it into something I'm happy with. I'm not 100% pleased with it, but I'm mostly sick of looking at it at this point, and this specific chapter is NOT beta read like the first was. 
> 
> Hoping to have the third chapter out... at some point. I don't have a firm date on it, so I won't try to give one. That said, I may end up posting a completely unrelated one shot for a completely different fandom that I've been kicking around and fiddling with for a bit. 
> 
> Once again, this fic is heavily inspired by the lyrics to Calcutta by Sleep Token. It's not a song-fic, but it is inspired by that song, so if you want to get a general idea of the vibe check it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Song for the Chapter: Iron by Woodkid  
> Fic title taken from: Calcutta by Sleep Token
> 
> Edits will be added as my friend notices them when I miss them.  
> 
> 
> Bear with me while I'm writing this. I generally avoid longer fics and have only worked on one shots for the last few years or so. I'm an History grad student so my schedule is a little bit hectic with my current projects. 
> 
> This fic will be more heavily focused on the medieval setting that Fire Emblem games primarily take place in, with a good majority of the more fantastical elements removed and some parts of the story rewritten. However, it will primarily follow the Verdant Wind route as that is the one I'm most familiar with and the one I have found myself enjoying the most. Parts of the other routes will find their way in, but their inclusion will be a bit more limited. A big change is that Byleth will be younger and also a student. Sorry, not sorry. She will still be contemporary with our known cast of characters. 
> 
> A note about my writing style: I'm known to be exposition heavy. Dialogue often takes a back burner for me, and I'm not exactly strong with writing it. I'm hoping writing this fic will help me get better at it. 
> 
> With our time of social distancing I have a feeling that I will have a LOT of free time that is not spent reading history books or transcribing death certificates, so I'm hopeful that I'll have the next chapter done in the next few weeks. Provided I can pull myself away from Animal Crossing when that finally is available. 
> 
> Hope you are all well, wash your hands and don't touch your face!


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